To be human is to live in contradiction.
Perfect consistency is impossible for us. We think too much; we feel too much; we believe too much. We invented philosophy and science, and art, and morality. And every time we think that these have given us an answer that is final, that is absolute, that we can rely on, that is true, the world changes and we change and the answers have to change as well.
But change is hard, so we cling as long as possible to the old truths, accepting only what in our pain and our grief and our fear we can no longer deny; and contorting ourselves to make everything fit. We shake our heads in disbelief at our own contradictions, and label others’ inconsistencies as hypocrisy.
But it’s really just all of us being human.
I just read something that asked the question, “How could we go so abruptly from Barack Obama to Donald Trump?” How could the same country elect an erudite, scholarly, compassionate and thoughtful leader, then replace him with a crude, anti-intellectual, self-aggrandizing, impulsive one? Which of these very opposite men really represents who we are?
The answer is, of course, that they both do.
We have evolved into creatures who deal with the natural conflicts and dangers of the world by contriving to make them more contentious and more dangerous. There are real solutions to the real problems of the world. There are more than sufficient resources. But we allow our worst traits, our basest instincts, our superstitions and prejudices and fear to rule us; we hoard our resources instead of using them, we reject comprehensive solutions to complex problems in favor of simplistic analyses and short-sighted solutions. We proclaim our desire for peace and understanding, we pray for the relief of suffering and ask why we can’t all just get along; but we refuse to do what is necessary to achieve those things. If we can’t see a way to fix something right now, for all time, without any sacrifice or compromise on our part, we tell ourselves that no solution exists at all.
We are simultaneously all that is good in the world and all that is evil. And every choice we make is a choice to turn in the direction of one or the other. Our moral compass is broken and we have lost our ability to find our way in the wilderness.
We are polarized because we have made a choice to declare ourselves only half of who we are, and to further assert that our chosen half of this bifurcated self is the only acceptable truth, the only reality.
The contradictions remain, of course, but rather than acknowledge them and try to understand how they make us whole, we either deny them or tie ourselves in knots trying to fit them into the incomplete self we cling to.
We do not live linear lives. Our stories are told first in stream of consciousness, and we try to understand who we are by rewriting the stories until they make sense; but each story needs to make sense on its own as well as finding a place in the whole anthology of our lives, and we need to forget so much to make that happen.
I am a man and a male. How can I change the normative misogyny and chauvinism of the culture unless I can acknowledge that it lives within me? I can’t remove it from my experience, from the teachings that shaped me. It’s there. It always will be. But when I allow myself to see it I am better able to see my way forward; so that there may come a time when we will have raised a generation that never learned it in the first place. I’m not a feminist because I have never seen the feminine as less, but because I have, and I am working to change that in me as well as in the society.
I come most directly from pink-skinned European ancestors. How can I change the normative xenophobia and racism of the culture unless I acknowledge that I carry within me the same learned fear of the other, of the different, that I wish to change? I don’t seek racial justice and equality because I have never felt afraid, but because I have, and I’m working to change that in me as well as in the society.
I am cisgender and heterosexual. How can I change the normative homophobia of the culture unless I acknowledge that I have feared and felt shamed by the feminine in myself, that I have questioned my own capacity for intimacy, both emotional and physical, with both women and men? I don’t fight for the humanity of those who are homosexual, or bisexual, or transgendered, or gender non-conforming, or to allow everyone to love whomever they love because I was never told that my feminine was weakness and abomination, but because I was; and I’m trying to change that in myself as well in the society.
If we are going to tell our stories authentically and honestly and make it possible for others to do the same, then we cannot forget, cannot leave out, the parts that make us contradictory, inconsistent, and even sometimes hypocritical.
There is no high road or low road; there is only the path we have walked thus far, with its hills and valleys, its twists and turns and detours, its dark passages and glorious vistas; for there is no way forward except from where we are right now.
Posts Tagged ‘morality’
The Question of Evil — Part 2
In A God of Infinite Possibility on October 12, 2012 at 5:20 pmIf everything that is, is God, then what is evil? Is it part of God? Did God create it? What is the purpose of evil?
What if there were no “evil” in the world? What if everything was equally “good?” No matter what you chose, the consequences would be equally happy, equally beneficial. How would you choose? Even simple choices would have no meaning, no significance, no basis for evaluation. Should I have coffee or tea? Should I wear the blue shirt or the red? Should I turn left or right? What do I prefer? And on what basis do I prefer it? When all is good, judgment becomes impossible. Now the same would be true if there were only evil, of course. If we could not perceive both good and evil, then choice would be arbitrary and meaningless.
It is interesting to note that the thing that is forbidden in the Garden of Eden is knowledge; specifically, the knowledge of good and evil. This makes sense only if Adam and Eve are ignorant of both. They cannot know evil without knowing good, or good without evil, because one is necessary to the other. Something is good to the extent that it is not evil and vice-versa. Something is better to the extent that it is less evil and more good; it is worse to the extent that it is less good and more evil. Now, if it seems I am using evil almost synonymously with “bad,” it’s because I am. If we believe that there are degrees of evil , or if we simply believe that an evil thing is extremely bad, then we can talk about good and evil as directions rather than places. And we can see that our ability to understand great good requires us to imagine great evil to compare it with. Our ability to believe in the Devil as perfect evil requires us to believe in God as perfect good. Otherwise, what does any of it mean?
As an analogy, consider the idea that if everyone were rich, then no one would be. An understanding of great wealth requires a contrasting understanding of great poverty. But when does one become perfectly wealthy? We have no agreement as to when someone would be so wealthy that no more wealth would be possible or necessary, because we have no contrasting image of someone so poor that greater poverty would be impossible. Would ownership of literally everything make someone perfectly wealthy? What if he owned everything and was owed an equal amount? Or twice as much? Would that make everyone else perfectly poor? Or would some owe more than others? Would we have to adjust our understanding of wealth to mean “less in debt?” At that point would it make any difference? Perhaps we could even argue that at some point being even more in debt might be a form of wealth, because those who owed the most would be worth the most. But what if we were to consider wealth and poverty not as places, but as directions? We would be wealthy to the extent that our choices around wealth moved in a “wealthy” direction; poor to the extent that our wealth choices moved in the direction of “poverty.”
Consider also a bar magnet. One end is “north,” and the other is “south.” Or we might call one end “positive” and the other “negative.” But these distinctions are arbitrary. If the ends aren’t labeled, how do we know which is which? And the “positive” and “negative” qualities are not just at the ends. If we cut the magnet in half, we get two new magnets, each of which has the same qualities of positive and negative. Cut the two magnets into four, or eight, or sixteen, or however many you want, and you will never reach a point where any piece is all one or the other.
This is the nature of good and evil in our choices. All choices are actions, and all actions contain the possibility of both good and evil. Large choices have greater possibilities for good or evil, smaller choices have smaller possibility, but no matter how you slice it, every choice has the potential for either. In choosing, as in magnets, positive and negative aren’t ends, they are directions. We can determine the “north” and “south” ends of the magnet if we can make it into a compass, which would allow us to position the magnet according to known, fixed points – one north and one south. In the same way, we can know the directions our choices might lead us in if we can make magnets of them, orient them to some sort of fixed moral points labeled good and evil.
Morality is our compass. Our particular standards of morality are the fixed points against which we can orient the positive and negative directions of our actions. Morality is a set of judgments based on our perceptions of good and evil, of benefit or harm. Something is evil to the extent that it causes harm, good to the extent that it creates benefit. But these are arbitrary and human determinations. That which benefits me might harm you, for instance. That which I think is good, you might find to be evil. Each of us has her or his own compass, and they do not all point to the same fixed pole. And so we gather into communities of various kinds, both spiritual and secular, where we can be with others who have similar compasses to our own. This doesn’t make the compasses any less arbitrary or human, but it does give us support for our moral judgments.
The Eden Dilemma and the Question of Evil — Part 1
In A God of Infinite Possibility on October 12, 2012 at 5:16 pmTHE EDEN DILEMMA
If we try to imagine life in the Biblical Garden of Eden, we run into a major problem. Adam and Eve are depicted as living in a paradise of Godly perfection. Until the appearance of the serpent, there is no evil: no violence, no corruption, neither illness nor death. The inhabitants can look forward to an eternity of constant goodness. But they are also both ignorant and naïve, and purposeless. Adam is apparently given the task of naming everything in the garden, but why? Is it just busy-work? He is incapable of failing at the task, because there are no standards against which to judge his efforts. Making a mistake is impossible, because a mistake would suggest that there are ”better” or “worse” choices; but this is Eden where there is only good. But what does “good” mean without anything else to compare it to? And what of Eve? Except to provide companionship for Adam, she has no purpose at all. And what sort of companionship can she provide? What will they talk about? There is no point in discussing the names Adam is giving the animals, because there is no basis for discussing them. After Adam says that this animal is a “sheep,” for instance, and Eve acknowledges the name, what more is there to discuss? It is impossible to ask whether it is a good name, because it must be. She can’t even ask “why,” because there is no particular reason for any of it. And if there were reasons they would all be good reasons. It is an endless, eternal cycle of unrelenting “goodness.”
Except for three important details. There is forbidden fruit, there is the ability to make a choice, and there is a possibility of desire.
Without knowledge of good and evil, choice becomes meaningless; and without choice there is no point in knowing about good and evil. So Adam and Eve must have been given the ability to choose. They must have had free will. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for God to deny them access to the Tree of Knowledge, because they could not have chosen to eat from it anyway. But the ability to choose requires that there be a choice to make. What choices did Adam and Eve actually have? They could choose to go to this place or that within Eden, but all places were equally perfect. They could choose to eat any of the fruit from any tree in the garden, but all fruits were equally perfect. They could interact with any of the animals in the garden, but all animals and all interactions were equally perfect. Without the forbidden fruit, without a choice, free will had no meaning. So how could they choose?
In the absence of reason as a basis for choice, we have to have desire. If it is equally good to eat a peach or a fig, then perhaps we simply need to desire one or the other. “I think I would like a peach today,” doesn’t require us to denigrate the choice of a fig, only to recognize a momentary preference. If we do not think about our preferences, but simply respond to them, act on them, then knowledge of good and evil is only necessary if there is the possibility of evil in a choice we might desire. This is the real meaning of the serpent. The serpent doesn’t make Eve aware of the choice – she already knows that the fruit is forbidden – the serpent’s role is to convince Eve that she desires the fruit, so that she has a reason to choose it. And the fact that the fruit is forbidden is an argument in favor of desire, because unless the thing is desirable, there is no reason to choose it, and consequently no reason to forbid the choice.
But there is still a problem. The forbidden fruit gives Adam and Eve the knowledge that there is both good and evil in the world, but it doesn’t give them clear knowledge of which is which. This they have to figure out as they go along. They quickly understand that things have changed; but they have no solid basis for judging those changes. They find that they are naked, and become ashamed by the knowledge. Why? They have been naked all along in Eden, and Eden is perfect, so why should nakedness be shameful? Apparently, it is the knowledge of their nakedness that is shameful, not the nakedness itself. Things get topsy-turvy pretty quickly after that. In Eden, there is no death. The lion and the lamb lie down together and both eat grass. Adam and Eve eat only fruit. But after they eat of the Tree of Knowledge, and know that they are naked, Got clothes them in animal skins. They learn that not only are the animals now killing each other for survival, but that they must also kill in order to survive. Before the fall, God had created a world in which killing was not possible; after the fall, the descendants of Adam and Eve kill each other – beginning with Adam and Eve’s first born sons – in order to have the things they need and desire; and even more than that, they kill other animals, make sacrifices, to honor God. So is killing evil, or good?
Before the fall, Adam and Eve are ignorant of sex. There is no need for sex, because there is no need for procreation. In fact, procreation would be a problem, because there is no death. There is no desire for sex, because there is no knowledge of sex. Knowledge of sex would be a problem in Eden unless procreation was impossible, because if sexual activity is a choice, then desire may lead us to choose it, and in the absence of pregnancy prevention, choosing it would inevitably lead to procreation. But is sex, therefore, evil? Is procreation? Is everything that did not exist in Eden before the fall evil by definition? Note that eating the forbidden fruit doesn’t creategood and evil, it simply allows Adam and Eve to know that they exist. It allows them to see the possibilities for good and evil in the choices they might make, and to consider those possibilities as they choose.
Thus, the lesson of the Garden of Eden becomes not the emergence of evil, or original sin, but the attainment of knowledge, and with it full humanity. It is, after all, our ability to choose and to give meaning to our choices that makes us human. Why would God set it up that way? Perhaps because if good is the direction of God, then maybe God wants us to choose it; to go toward God consciously; to know what it is we are doing. And we cannot always know which choice is the “good” one because life is more complex than that, and because the experience of life is, itself, essential to understanding the choices. If it were easier, it wouldn’t mean so much.
An old folk song praises the day that Eve got Adam to eat the apple, because without that we wouldn’t be here at all. The fruit of the tree of knowledge, in Eden, was the only fruit (other than eternal life) that was not to be eaten. Now it is the only fruit we must eat. We must not go ignorantly or accidently toward God (except of course in the case of children or other innocents), but must eat daily of the fruit of knowledge and then choose.